


kilometers per second

by drux



Category: Fate/EXTRA, Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Crack, M/M, i crave a slow and painful death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drux/pseuds/drux
Summary: Sans fulfills his dreams and has a little fun in the tub.





	kilometers per second

_Perhaps there was a point to all this_ , Sans Undertale thought, staring expectantly at the church door.

Fifteen-hundred-and-twenty-two seconds passed, and he observed nothing other than tiny dust particles swirling and glimmering in the beams of light that shone through the multicolored stained glass windows.

 _Perhaps not_ , he finally decided with a resigned sigh. The stout skeleton rose from the church pews and made his way out the very door he had been staring at for 25.37 minutes, the whoopee cushion in his skeletal hand letting out an arguably pleasant noise as he pushed against the aged wood.

His eyes scanned the parking lot, trying to recall where he had stashed his Galactic Blue colored 2003 New Volkswagen Beetle. They flickered briefly towards the sky, barely noting its uniform gray color. Or was it grey? Perhaps it was both– at least that would make it somewhat more interesting. Regardless, there was nary a cloud above, which he supposed he ought to be thankful for. He wouldn’t want it to rain on the way back to his beloved. Especially if it was the usual hamburger rain that they had been getting recently; the rotting meat and stale buns were getting incredibly annoying to clean. He recalled spending 3.95 hours the previous week simply scraping soggy lettuce off his windshield.

Sans clicked his remote key as if calling for a lost pet, and his car responded with the meek beep of a cold and hungry runaway housecat that didn’t expect the streets to be as rough as they quite obviously were. And, just like a roughed-up housecat, the Galactic Blue paint on his car was scratched and dented in several places, having obviously seen the sites of many a scrape and tussle. Half a bumper was missing, and he was slightly embarrassed that he could barely recall how he had lost it. Eh, it wasn’t as if it mattered. The car was hardly important to him, anyways.

He climbed in, somehow sitting uncomfortably in the otherwise comfortable-looking driver’s seat. Sometimes he felt that the car could detect his lack of fondness for it, and that it was saying something along the lines of, “It’s not like I like you, b-baka!” and rebuffing him with a loud ‘hmph’, crossed arms and a prominent blush on its face.

But that was stupid. It was just a car.

He had been hoping to meet an important person at the church, but… they never showed. He supposed it was his fault for getting his hopes up to expect that the legendary Padoru-chama would have actually appeared there. It was around the season that she would have started appearing, in all her red and white glory, so he had taken the routine of visiting the church daily in hopes of approaching her with a song he so longed for her to sing. Sans Undertale woke up an average of four times a week with an uncomfortable wetness in his boxers after particularly spicy dreams of Padoru-chama’s amazing voice crooning the lyrics to this particular song. Of course, it hadn’t been long before his lover found out, and after some discussion, it was decided that Sans needed to go pursue this dream of his.

So long for that dream. He’d just about decided that he may as well give up.

His bony fingers gripped the steering wheel, perhaps just a touch too tightly. Despite his eternally grinning face, he was definitely feeling more a mixture of cowboy emoji, skull emoji, and sad emoji. Just to show that although he was sad, he was still a cowboy and a skeleton. He drove out of the parking lot and into the græy fog, yeehawing softly, with emotion.

 

~*~

 

Sans Undertale pulled into the driveway of small, suburban home that he’d been calling home for, what, 4 years now? 5? It was hard to tell– time seemed to pass so quickly when he was with his beloved. He stumbled out of the car, making his way up to the door and raised a bony finger, ready to ring the doorbell.

The door opened before he could press the button. A tall-but-frail-looking man stood before him, holding the door open. He wore a long hoodie jacket that seemed to be the exact color of smeared grass clippings, and his pale white hair, despite being natural, looked like the result of a wannabe edgy teenager attempting to bleach their own hair for the first time after only having consulted half of a YouTube video.

It was him.

Komaeda Nagito.

The love of his life. Of course he knew when Sans would be home. His Ultimate Luck just worked like that, sometimes.

“Hey there baby, wanna taste a sweeter hell?” Sans grinned at Komaeda, since that was literally the only expression his skeletal face was capable of.

“Ya boy got thundered, maybe some other time. Touchie tooty hole day, baby.” Komaeda flung an arm around Sans’s shoulders and pulled him close, into a tight hug. Sans squeezed back. Komaeda’s touch always seemed to comfort him.

“Padoru-chama was a bust. Flex me back to Sweat Nap City…” He tried his best to convey emotion, unhinging his jaw and flipping it upside down in an attempt to convey a frown. One day, he wished to be able to manipulate his bones as easily and in as versatile a fashion as most meat-sacks were able to manipulate their flesh.

Komaeda placed a hand on Sans’s shoulder and swiveled his head like an owl, looking back towards their living room.

 “Actually… I’ve got a little jumpy-succy for you.” He raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“You– you ridin’, cowboy?” Sans’s eyeholes widened. Komaeda shook his head, and began leading him towards the living room.

 The skeleton stopped in his tracks. His jawbone fell on the ground. Slowly, his bones began clattering onto the hardwood floor one by one.

What stood before him was a _collection_ of massive legends, all mingling and consuming a variety of delicious snacks and non-alcoholic beverages. Some ‘legends’ were rather outdated, but… still. Harambe stood proudly in a corner, chewing softly on their potted plant. Ugandan Knuckles was chatting animatedly with Zelda, the little blonde boy with a green hat and sword. He wanted to show him ‘da wae’, it seemed. A golden retriever sat on the couch, quickly churning butter with his bare paws.

And, in the middle of everything…

Was it…?

Padoru-chama was _here_. She was here! Sans could barely contain his excitement, and was literally falling apart, judging by the pile of bones he was slowly but steadily turning into.

Komaeda placed a gentle hand on Sans’s skull, and his bones snapped together at the speed of a cat scrambling away from someone who managed to notice that it was watching it from a doorway. He pulled himself together, literally, and turned his head towards his lover.

“I’ve already told our lord and savior what to sing. Wanna go knock our moon rocks…?” He asked hesitantly, as if there was even a chance that Sans would reject him.

Sans grinned back, as was only natural. He gently took Komaeda’s hand off his head and led the two of them to the bathroom, and laid down gingerly in the tub. His partner, knowing exactly what was about to come, opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out a barrel of milk, and began pouring the smooth, creamy white liquid over Sans’s body, making sure to get plenty of it in his eyeholes. Then, placing the empty barrel on the lid of the toilet, Komaeda reached down and began unzipping his pants.

A metric ton of cooked spaghetti fell out from his open zipper and into the tub, and almost as if on cue, the opening notes of Sans’s preferred song started. C, E, D, B, D, C…

Padoru-chama’s delightful voice started crooning, and the both of them knew that it was Time.

“Fingers in his ass, fingers in his ass... Kanye West he likes, fingers in his ass.” Sans immediately displaced all of his finger bones, erecting them up on his crotch to form a tall and proud bone-r.

Komaeda pulled a jar of spaghetti sauce from the cabinets and started slathering it on the skeleton’s makeshift member. Sans moaned loudly, gurgling from the amount of milk in the tub. The sauce felt absolutely amazing. Padoru-chama’s voice made the experience even better.

Sans used the few bones left in his hands to rub Komaeda’s pants spaghetti all over himself, stuffing it in his pockets. Ravioli, ravioli, what’s in the pocketoli?

Not ravioli. Obviously. Spaghetti’s fucking different, you uncultured heathen.

Noticing Sans’s reaction, Komaeda smirked and began slowly pulling down the zipper on Sans’s hoodie, feeling each tooth of the zipper break free as he tugged. Finally reaching the bottom, he unhooked it and ran his long, slender fingers against Sans’s ribcage.

Sans shuddered, and a gasp would have escaped his mouth hole if it weren’t for the milk in the tub. Instead, a large, milky, iridescent bubble appeared on the surface of the milk where his mouth would have been. He arched his back, shoving his ribcage against Komaeda’s fingers.

Chuckling, Komaeda popped the bubble with his pinky nail, and in one swift motion, he plunged his fingers in between Sans’s ribs. The bonelord’s bone-r twitched, and his toe bones curled from the sheer amount of pleasure.

“Kanye likes fingers in his… hole. Aaaaaaayyy– hole.” The deity’s voice streamed in, loud and clear, through the open bathroom door.

The song was almost ending, which was good. Sans was _so_ close.

Komaeda extracted his fingers, and sensing the coming climax, he plunged them into Sans’s eyehole. The one with the blue glow.

Sans nearly screamed in pleasure, but he couldn’t because his mouth was covered in milk. Also, it would drown out Padoru-chama’s sweet sweet voice.

“1 2 3 4 5 6 fingers, fingers in the booty ass bitch.”

The final line of the song was sung, and Sans clung onto it like one of those sticky hand toys from elementary school.

A rainbow of condiments erupted from his bone-dick, spraying Komaeda in the face with a mixture of mayonnaise, BBQ sauce and stone-ground artisanal mustard, and the skeleton passed out from pure bliss.

**Author's Note:**

> it's called kilometers per second because i want 2 kms


End file.
